


Love Bug

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [11]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Blushing, Dirty Talk, F/M, Family, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, cockblocked, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: When you're madly in love and forget to lock that door...
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tom & Charlie [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1230737
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Love Bug

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place shortly after Tom and Charlie have really embarked on their relationship, when Evie is around 5 years old. You might want to read “To Have You” and “(Not so friendly) Friends” to catch up with these two love birds.

Charlie hums softly to herself, puttering around the kitchen to make something for dinner.

Tom’s been away since this morning - not for a future acting project or an interview though. Some fashion label she’s never heard of has asked him to do a shoot for them. A winter collection shoot, no less. She glances out the window at the bright sunshine and scantily dressed people on the street with a grin. It’s the middle of the summer. Ah well. Tom mumbled something about catalogs to print and campaigns to plan when she teased him about sweating buckets in ugly Christmas-themed grandma-knit sweaters this morning.

Charlie’s about to dunk some pasta into boiling water when her phone chirps with an incoming message. She walks over to check and sees a picture loading. A collage of some sort? She smirks to herself. Ever since Tom has figured out how to create collages on his iPhone, he loves them. Bouncing happily, she opens the message…and promptly drops the - luckily still unopened - pasta packet.

Whoa, holy hell! That sure isn’t an ugly grandma sweater. Staring, she zooms in on the pictures Tom has sent (along with a warning that this is an exclusive, secret sneak peek for her eyes only and he’ll delete the photos even from his own phone now).

“It’s not fair,” she whispers to herself, ogling shamelessly. How the hell can a man look so handsome in bulky coats and simple sweaters? Her gaze lingers on his thighs in the first photo, then on the sharp cheekbones in the other one. Come to think of it, the hands aren’t fair either. And she knows just how skilled those long fingers are…

Blushing at a memory from last night, she drops the phone on the counter and bends to retrieve the pasta packet. Will he bring a new coat home today? Something snuggly? With a delicate shiver of anticipation, Charlie forces herself to get back to cooking and not keep drooling over the collage.

The ‘not drooling’ isn’t quite working for her though. She almost burns the pasta sauce (and the pasta itself), because she keeps checking those photos. Yes, yes, she’ll delete them soon as well. Promise.

Charlie’s at home today, having one of her rare days off, which in reality is never really a day off, because she too needs to go in in case of an emergency. But so far the day’s been quiet.

Evie spent her day in school and then with her aunt, Tom’s going to pick her up after his photo shoot.

And then…

Charlie jerks and almost burns her tongue on a mouthful of pasta when her phone pings.

_‘Are you coming over later?’_ Tom’s asking her.

Ha! Brilliant! She presses her thighs together in anticipation. They’d have to be quiet. But they had to be a few times in the recent past.

Charlie revels in the feeling that Tom’s just as excited to see her as she is. That he’s opened up, that they’re a couple and giddy to be in each other’s company. Among other things.

_‘Are you home already?’_ she sends back. _‘And were you allowed to keep…something?’_

_‘Opening the door now.’_ And then there are three dots. Then nothing. Three dots again. Then a winking emoji. That jerk.

_‘Perfect. I’ll be over after dinner. And hold that thought.’_

_‘I don’t know what you mean.’_

Charlie groans and laughs simultaneously. Oh, this will be fun.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Tom is cleaning up after dinner. Evie is in the living room, watching a cartoon before it’s time for bed. Wiping down the counter, he glances at his phone and can’t suppress a smirk.

So Charlie liked the exclusive photos he sent her, hm? How will she react when she finds out he did get to keep that red winter jacket?

Grin widening, Tom hums under his breath as he finishes the chores. He’s sooo looking forward to having Charlie stop over again. A twitch in his jeans shows just how much he’s looking forward to it, in fact. God, why is it that she has him as hormonal and horny as a teenager these days? Whenever she’s here or he’s at her place, they can’t keep their hands - and mouths - off each other.

He closes his eyes as images flash across his mind. They christened the kitchen counter last week and he’ll never be able to look at it the same way after that. Christ, he shouldn’t be thinking of that.

Tom jumps at the sound of a key turning in the front door lock - yes, she has her own key now. He glances down ruefully. Looks like he’ll be greeting his beautiful woman with rather too much of visible enthusiasm…

The first thing Charlie hears as she closes the door is the tv in the living-room, playing the end credits to a cartoon she knows by heart now. Damn it, she thinks, and immediately feels bad for it. She loves the little girl like her own, but she’s been looking forward to spend time with Tom _alone_ since before dinner.

Just as she drops her bag and shrugs off her shoes, steps coming from the kitchen alert her to the presence of Tom.

His hair is styled back, he’s wearing his well trusted jeans and a white t-shirt, and - oh - he’s definitely been thinking of her as much as she has of him.

Damn him.

Before she can even say ‘hi’ he’s reached her and has pulled her in his arms.

The kiss is chaste. Too chaste.

“You’re here,” Tom whispers against her lips, almost as if he thinks hushed voices could stop Evie from noticing Charlie’s presence.

“Definitely,” she smirks back as her hands travel down the hard muscles of his stomach. “You’re _here_ as well.”

The kiss that follows is far from chaste.

Tom’s brain seems to have stopped working. Because he doesn’t know how his hands found their way beneath Charlie’s clothes or what exactly he’s whispering between decidedly X-rated kisses, but he’s definitely touching skin and making her moan. Who needs brain cells anyway…

“Charlieeeeee!”

Well.

Cockblocked by his own daughter - again.

Tom has barely withdrawn his greedy hands from Charlie’s delectable body and remembered to breathe before a small shape comes barreling down the hall. His little girl leaps into Charlie’s waiting arms and he allows himself a moment to gaze at the two most important ladies in his life (together with his mum and sisters). It never ceases to bring him joy how well these two get along.

Boots is hot on Evie’s heels, wanting in on the loving. So Charlie carries the child into the living room while Tom picks up the meowing cat and follows. They sit down together for a while, Tom positioning the furball in a way that hides the bulge in his jeans that never seems to want to settle when Charlie’s around.

Finally, it’s bedtime. Switching from cat to child, Tom carries Evie into her room and settles down for a bedtime story. Alone because the last few times that he did it together with Charlie, the non-reading one of them would inevitably get handsy and the reading one too distracted. So Evie - way too observant for his liking - insisted on only one at a time.

“I’ll go freshen up a bit,” Charlie says from the doorway after telling Evie goodnight among more hugs. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes that instantly has Tom hot and bothered again. Suppressing a groan, he tries to focus on the story.

Which isn’t that easy. Because Tom’s planned something as well. Charlie seemed to be especially fond of that red jacket. And Tom kind of promised to bring something with him. So, he did. It’s placed strategically on the bed in the hopes of giving Charlie a glimpse of what’s to come. Literally.

“Daddyyyy,” Evie whines from where she’s lying under the covers. “You need to continue,” she says, poking him in the thigh.

Oops. Getting distracted again.

“Sorry, munchkin. Here we go,” he mumbles, and probably reads the same sentence twice.

But it takes him less than ten minutes before Evie’s breaths become deeper, her hold on his hand loosening. Finally.

He’s not 20 anymore, so getting up from the small bed without either waking his daughter or damaging his body is slightly more difficult than it’s been a few years ago.

Tom puts the book down on the small bedside table softly, then tiptoes out of the room, leaving the door just the slightest bit open in case Evie has a bad dream.

In the hallway, Tom takes a deep breath. It’s just been maybe 20 hours or something since he last had her, but he still can’t wait to find Charlie in his bed, waiting for him. He needs her. He didn’t think it’d be possible, but he does.

Thinking of rhubarb and some difficult mathematical models (everything is a difficult model to be fair) in order to hopefully last longer than five minutes, Tom makes his way to the bedroom two doors over. It’s still rather hot outside. Maybe a winter jacket isn’t the best idea after all.

When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks, before he can even close the door. “Fuck me.”

Charlie’s found the jacket. It’s too big on her, but she’s put it on, the zippers reaching up to her chest. It’s almost embarrassing how sexy Tom finds the sight of his girlfriend wearing a too big puffy winter jacket in the middle of summer.

“Found your present,” she purrs. “The metal of the zipper is nicely cooling when it’s so warm outside.”

“What…”

And then he sees it. Charlie’s panties dangling from her fingers.

“I hope you don’t have to give it back?”

“Yeah…no…yeah…uh…”

_Welp, Hiddleston, you’re being very eloquent._ Tom feels mildly embarrassed about how easily Charlie can fry his synapses. But it really isn’t fair, is it? Her looking so delectable and him all but bursting out of his jeans.

And heaven help him, now that she’s flung the panties to a corner, she’s begun fiddling with the zip.

“I…” He clears his throat. “Let me.”

Somehow he’s crossed over to her and is damn near destroying the new winter jacket in his fumbling haste to get this wonderful woman bare. And then they’re tumbling to the bed, Charlie muttering something about him being too dressed.

He bats her hands away because if he’s also naked now, this will be over in three seconds.

Instead, Tom focuses on that spot at the crook of her neck that seems to be her ‘on’ switch, worrying it with his teeth and tongue. Ah yes, there she is, moaning softly and arching into him. Pinning her down with most of his weight and using his long body to advantage, Tom holds her wrists in one hand and uses his free hand to fondle a breast.

Charlie rears up for a kiss, and the last bit of his laughable control flies out the closed window.

_Fuck_.

_Fuck, fuck, damn it, fuck._

Charlie can’t think much else, not with Tom kissing her like that, Tom pressing into her like that, and definitely not with Tom touching her like that.

He’s still way too dressed, but the fabric of his jeans is doing such nice - and dangerous - things to her overheated body that Charlie can’t be bothered to care at the moment.

Tom’s fingers find their way from her breast down her side and along her hip and up again.

His other hand is still holding her wrists, so she can’t even run her hands through Tom’s hair in response. Later then.

Instead, she nibbles on his lip, using a bit of teeth and then thrusts her hips upwards. Finally. A groan from Tom.

She grins into the kiss, but it’s only for a moment, because Tom moves against her, his jeans rubbing delicately against Charlie’s core.

“Tom,” she moans, “get naked.”

He has the nerve to chuckle - chuckle! - before his fingers find their place on her hip again. He tilts his head so his lips can torture her throat, and then the grip on her wrists tightens as Tom’s fingers make their way to Charlie’s inner thigh.

“Fuck,” she mumbles.

“Soon,” is the rather cheeky response. “Let me make you feel good first.”

Her legs open in response, her thighs pressing against Tom’s hips. She’s still not prepared for that onslaught of feelings in her body as Tom’s fingers finally touch her where she needs it the most.

Charlie presses against his hand, and she needs to do something, damn it. So, she pushes up again, stealing kisses from Tom’s mouth, before her lips explore every part of Tom they can reach in this position.

She smirks as he falters, then moans when he dips one finger inside her.

It’s all moans (from her) and groans (from him) now, mostly muffled against the other’s skin although Evie sleeps like the dead. Tom feels Charlie writhe and quiver beneath him. Adding another finger, he coaxes as his lips seek spots on her body while she does her best to drive him out of his ever-loving mind. They know each other’s weaknesses now, each other’s bodies. Though there’s apparently always still something new to learn.

Like now, when he twists his wrist and crooks his fingers a bit and Charlie all but shoots off the bed, nearly bucking him off.

“Like that, do you?” he asks hoarsely, doing it again. His answer is a hiss, and suddenly she’s going rigid.

So he leans over and seals his mouth over hers, swallowing her whimper as she comes apart for him. The way she squeezes his fingers nearly is enough to trigger his own release. He barely manages to gentle her down from her high before shoving his jeans down. There’s always time to get undressed for the next round. Right now, he needs to be inside her.

She doesn’t know what’s up and what’s down, just knows that Tom did something with his fingers and sent her straight to heaven. Or hell.

Charlie’s still breathing fast, her eyes closed, her body shaking and tingling all over. There are white spots in front of her closed eyes, and all she can do is concentrate on Tom kissing her.

And then he’s whispering in her ear, “Do you want me?”

And if it wasn’t so damn hot, him still asking for consent, Charlie would have snorted. Is there any indication of her not wanting him?

“Yes,” she whispers, and with a groan from Tom he settles in between her legs. And stills.

“Fuck, I… damn it all,” he mutters against her throat, before he lets go of her hands, and roams her body instead.

Charlie answers with a tuck on his hair, her arms finally free to move, and a kiss when his mouth finds hers again. “Move, Tom.”

“Can’t.”

So, she does.

“Won’t last,” he mutters, and Charlie chuckles, before she clenches around him and moves against him, and her nails drag over his shoulder blades, still covered in his t-shirt, finally making him thrust into her.

“Don’t want you to,” she breathes next to Tom’s ear, and then she sees stars again and feels the shivers running through his body wrapped around her.

Goodness, that was intense.

Tom doesn’t quite know how he’s gotten here. He remembers Charlie egging him on, clenching around him, and making him go off like a horse at a race. And now they’re somehow a tangle of limbs on his bed and he doesn’t want to - probably can’t - move.

He snuggles closer, not sure whose legs are where but content to bury his face in Charlie’s nice-smelling hair and feel her hands gentling him. They’re both panting and his heart rate doesn’t seem quite healthy, but that’s perfectly fine.

A few moments later, he hears Charlie mumble something against his chest, feels a foot idly rub his calf and somehow get him all hot and bothered again.

“Huh?” He lifts his head and blinks, trying to get her beautiful face into focus.

“Too dressed.” Charlie grins at him, looking quite the Cheshire cat, her hands beginning to wander.

With a rather incoherent ‘mmph’ as a response, Tom rolls off her and tries to take deep breaths.

“Gi’ me a second. I’m not twenty anymore.”

There’s a snort-giggle from Charlie but he can’t even feel offended and feels himself smirk. And then her hands are everywhere again, tugging and pulling. Guess he’ll have to sit up and undress after all…

* * *

She’s beautiful, Tom thinks, not for the first time, as he lets lazy fingers travel up and down her spine and doesn’t stop there, but lets his fingertips brush the curve of her arse where the blanket has dropped in her sleep.

A quick glance back over his shoulder at the clock on his nightstand tells Tom it’s only shortly past six in the morning.

He can’t even believe how he’s able to be already up - and definitely up for more - when they went for three rounds until late in the night. The second one being all about Charlie undressing him and taking her time with him. The third time was in the middle of the night. Quietly and lazily. He still blushes thinking about it.

“’s too early,” Charlie mumbles into her pillow. She’s on her stomach, both arms hugging the pillow. She’s protesting, but Tom can see the sleepy smile on her face and the goosebumps covering her body.

“Wore you out, didn’t I?” He moves closer and then closer still, until his front is pressed into her side and their legs tangle again. They didn’t even bother to put on panties or boxers last night, and Charlie’s warm skin smells like sex, making Tom’s cock come alive once more.

Charlie must feel it, because she’s grinning now, her eyes still closed. “Didn’t I wear you out enough?”

She turns, opens her eyes, but before she can say more, Tom gives into the urge to kiss her. He smothers her squeal with his lips, whispering, “Don’t wake her,” before he takes her blanket (and his) away and now they’re perfectly lined up, his arm pulling her body even closer to him.

Tom’s lips make their way from Charlie’s mouth to her jaw, her throat, and her collarbone, before he takes a bit of time to take care of her hardening nipples.

In turn, Charlie tucks at his hair, panting softly, and making him groan. He hears his blood rushing in his ears and he hears her giggles.

And then, suddenly, he hears something else. But before he can even register and before he can smother another of Charlie’s noises, there’s a knock - a very quick one - on his bedroom door, Evie’s voice waving in from the hallway and the unmistakable sound of the bedroom door opening.

“Daddyyyyy, I’m not tired anymore.”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.

He should’ve invested in a working lock on the bedroom door. But of course he’d never lock the door anyway, not with Evie maybe needing him in the middle of the night.

Evie!

Reacting on instinct when he hears the door opening, Tom ducks lower and throws the duvet over himself. And realizes a moment later that it was probably the stupidest and worst thing to do. Why didn’t he just cover Charlie’s bare breasts and lie next to her? Or better yet, cover her and stand up? Although that would have meant a full frontal view of him naked that would probably traumatize his daughter forever.

Smothering a groan against Charlie’s stomach–she’s lying rigid beneath him and probably beet red in the face–Tom has no idea what to do now.

“Daddy? What are you doing under the blanket?”

Shit. Shitty shit shit.

“Um… I’m…” Why the heck is Charlie not saying something? All he can hear is a muffled, high-pitched sound. A squeak of mortification? A stifled giggle?

“I…erm…” Christ, he isn’t always this brain dead. Think, Hiddleston, think! “Charlie scratched herself during housework yesterday. I was just making sure there’s no wound that might need looking after.”

Idiot! He’d have smacked his own forehead but in his position, all he can do is thunk it against Charlie’s quivering thigh.

“Oh.” Evie’s voice is definitely closer now. “Lemme look? Does it hurt?”

Tom shoots back up from under the duvet, miraculously remembering to keep Charlie’s boobs covered while unfolding half of his body and at the same time holding out a stopping hand.

“Nonono, it’s alright. All’s fine.”

He is SO not risking a glance at Charlie’s face right now. Nuh-uh.

Sometimes she hates him (not really). Charlie doesn’t know a lot about acting classes, but she’s sure Tom had to do improvisation at least once. He told her it had been the most fun.

So, why is he so bad at it now?

She’s a shitty actress. She knows that, Tom knows that, and in less than 30 seconds little five-year-old Evie Hiddleston will probably know it too. She needs Tom’s help here.

Charlie loves Evie just as much as her father probably, but god dammit, she has the worst timing ever. Currently Evie is standing maybe a metre away from the bed, a stuffed bunny in her hands and her head tilted in a way that shows she’s trying to figure something out.

Meanwhile, Charlie feels the blush that’s spreading all over her body, with one hand she’s holding the blanket, and she can’t look at Tom’s face – he’s not facing her anyway, instead propping himself up on one arm awkwardly while trying to keep Evie back – in fear of laughing her head off at his expression.

They’ve had close calls in the past, but this certainly takes the top.

“Is really everything fine? You not hurt, Charlie?”

Tom and Charlie must look like puppets the way they both nod quickly, almost stumbling over their words.

“I’m really fine, munchkin.”

“Charlie’s feeling great.”

“I’m just a bit tired…”

“Will you go to your room? Daddy will pick you up in two minutes tops and we’ll go downstairs to prepare a very, very early and very, very nice breakfast, hm?”

Early is a bit of an understatement, but nothing that Charlie isn’t used to. She’ll have to work from 3 until the late evening anyway.

She almost jerks when Tom squeezes her, probably panicked by the frown on Evie’s little face.

“Oooooh,” Charlie says – she can feel Tom rolling his eyes, but hello? He wasn’t any better – “I’d love to have a very, very nice breakfast.” And get dressed.

“I want to cuddle first.”

Before they even have the chance to protest – and they’re trying – Evie’s made the way to the bed, climbs up on Charlie’s side and reaches for the blanket, probably to crawl under it.

She tucks at it, Charlie holds on, and then lets out a panicked giggle at the look on Tom’s face. It’s like he’s watching a tennis match, eyes darting from Evie to Charlie and back, before he reacts and turns, lying next to Charlie now, scooping Evie up and letting her fall between them – over the blanket – making a mass of giggles of his daughter.

Charlie snorts. Tom glares.

* * *

Roughly an hour later, Evie is still giggling, this time for a different reason.

Tom watches through the open kitchen door how Charlie tells his daughter a funny story and the two of them dissolve into laughter. It’s been so, so long since this place echoed with sounds of joy. He’s so very glad he’s - well, they - got Charlie in their life now.

Picking up the refilled coffee cups, Tom makes his way over. He drops a kiss on Evie’s curls and one on Charlie’s head, both of his ladies giving him a smile that makes his heart full to bursting. Charlie’s also fluttering her lashes a bit, and he really shouldn’t find that so attractive.

His mind flitters back to earlier on and their narrow escape. They need to be more careful, behave less like hormonal teenagers with their first crush.

Blushing a bit at just how hormonal they were, Tom busies himself with gulping down the hot liquid.

“Daddy?” Evie’s bouncing in her chair.

“Yes, munchkin?”

“I eated all my breakfast like a good girl. Can we go now? Can we go?”

With a chuckle, he shoots a glance at Charlie. It’s the weekend and they’ve planned a play date over at Em’s place where there’s a playground nearby.

“Alright, alright. Do you have your bag packed?” Evie has an adorable pinker than pink rucksack that contains some stuff she usually takes over there, like a change of clothes, a box of board games, random things she finds important.

“I’ll go get it.” She shoots off like a rocket, making him chuckle at her eagerness that she’s definitely not inherited from him.

“You’ll come with us, won’t you?” Tom asks Charlie.

She nods, fidgeting a bit. It hasn’t been too long since that party with friends and family where she was officially introduced as his new girlfriend. So everything is still a bit new. But fun.

“Hey.”

Charlie holds his gaze, and wills herself to neither blush nor look away. Sometimes it’s just so intense the way he looks at her. Now a smirk is playing at his lips and the laugh lines around his eyes are visible.

“Hm?”

“No need to be nervous.” The smirk becomes a soft smile now, and he tilts his head a little to the side.

“Ha!” she huffs. “I’m not nervous.” Okay. Maybe a little. And maybe she also knows that she doesn’t have to be. She’s met his family a few times, and just by the encounter they had after Tom’s and her not so great attempt at their first time, Charlie knows Emma to be firmly on her side.

But it’s still a little different meeting her as the official girlfriend. In the back of her mind Charlie knows that they probably would wish for Emily to be there instead. And that’s fine.

“You’re not?” Tom asks and grins. “But I would have ways to ease it. If you were interested.”

He’s leaning over to her on his chair now, eyebrows wiggling and licking his lips. He’s good at that. She’s not nervous anymore.

“Oh?” Charlie smirks back. “You would?”

“Hm hm.”

And then he kisses her. It’s chaste at first, but as always it turns a little heated as Tom nips her lip and then their tongues meet.

“Eeew.” Evie’s back it seems.

Charlie and Tom chuckle and with a last touch of their lips let go of each other.

She looks past Tom at his daughter, pink bag in one hand, Boots by her side, and an exasperated look on her face.

“Sorry,” Tom says, but winks at Charlie. “We’re coming."

* * *

Charlie’s rather proud of herself.

She did _not_ make a punny joke about the whole “we’re coming” remark. She also refrained from jumping Tom like a maniac-slash-whore when he wore one of her favourite T-shirts to go on the family visit (the almost see-through blue one).

And now they’re here at Emma’s place and there seem to be happy children and smiling adults everywhere, and she’s proud of herself for not having a nervous breakdown. Once in a while, Evie will hurry by in a blur, hugging Charlie’s leg briefly or asking her father for permission to do one thing or the other.

Everyone seems to be drifting around, enjoying the weekend. She’s been for a stroll in the garden, had a very normal and decent conversation with Emma, and stole a few kisses with Tom behind the broad, sheltering trunk of an old tree.

Now she’s standing in the living room, in front of the window, munching on a breadstick and gazing out. The background noise of chattering adults, clattering kitchen utensils and blissful children drowns out everything else, so she jumps a bit when an arm loops around her waist. Tom’s head appears over her shoulder as he takes a bite of her breadstick, essentially devouring what was left.

“Heyyy,” she protests–only half-heartedly because his fingers are sneaking beneath her top’s hem to spread across her lower belly. “Don’t nibble on my breadsticks!”

Tom’s chuckle ruffles her hair. “Okay, okay. How about I nibble on you instead?”

And then his teeth nip her earlobe before he grazes them down her neck.

“Heyyy.” This time, the protest is even more feeble. Kind of an involuntary moan rather than a protest, actually.

„Alternatively,“ Tom mumbles against her neck, making her suppress another groan, „You could also nibble on _my_ breadstick.“

Charlie can’t help herself, she bursts out laughing, Tom doing the same. He still has his hands on her, even now as she turns around to face him.

“Cheeky,” she grins.

Tom pulls her closer by her hips, his fingers tracing patterns a bit lower than appropriate on her backside, while Charlie’s hands find their place on his chest, that lovely, very lovely shirt soft under her touch.

“There’s a closet upstairs.” The (attempted) wink tells her Tom’s not serious. Well, not entirely serious, because there’s a certain sparkle in his eyes as well. That jerk. They can’t do that here. Not in Emma’s house. Not with children running around. Not with Sarah and her family being here as well. Nope. Can’t. Right.

“Tom… don’t.” She doesn’t even sound convincing to her own ears.

“You sure?” He leans closer still until he can kiss her properly, their breaths and the drum of his heartbeat underneath her fingers drowning out the voices from the kitchen.

Charlie’s about to mumble a “Yes” against his lips, when there’s a chorus of three little girls’ voices going “Oooooooooh” at the same time.

Tom lets go, both adults jerking apart to find Evie, Katie – Emma’s four-year-old daughter – and Lucy – Sarah’s seven-year-old – standing in the doorway with various stages of curiosity and disgust displayed on their faces.

“Ah,” Tom mumbles, blushing, and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Yeah. Good one, Tom. She can see his lips twitch, though, and if it wasn’t for the children standing right there, Charlie would punch him in the side. As it is, she just glares at him.

And then Sarah appears behind the children, takes one look at her brother and Charlie, throws her head back and laughs out loud. “Ha! Remind me to never send the children to get you ever again.” With that she disappears, but not before sending a wink their way, calling, “Lunch is ready,” their way.

The three girls whoop, leaving as fast as they appeared.

“I hate you,” Charlie mutters to Tom, adding, “jerk,” when she sees the grin and hears the chuckle.

* * *

Lunch is going well. 

Tom loves having his family around, happy children, and the woman he loves by his side. He’s looking forward to many more years of this, and the realization makes him pause and consider for a moment. But he isn’t thoughtful for long - firstly because there’s delicious food to be wolfed down, and secondly because Charlie’s hand lands on his thigh.

It’s mighty distracting so he keeps his input into the casual conversation to a minimum and focuses on eating. He shoots her a sidelong glance when her fingers begin stroking beneath the table, and she gives him the subtlest of winks.

A few minutes later, he almost chokes on a piece of chicken when Charlie’s hand wanders dangerously higher on the inside of his thigh. When his glare only makes her dig her fingers in more, he uses making a grab for his water glass as an excuse to elbow her in the ribs, gently.

Or maybe not so gently because Charlie winces. And unfortunately, Evie must’ve been watching the scene because he hears her little voice pipe up right in the middle of a lull in the conversation.

“Charlie, you okay?” Turning to everyone else, she says solemnly, “Charlie hurted herself.”

Oh God, oh fuck. Oh God no, this can’t be heading where he thinks it’s heading.

“Oh no, really?” Sarah asks.

“Mhm.” Evie nods sagely. “This morning when I wanted to cuddle with Daddy and Charlie in bed, Daddy was under the blankie, checking on a scratch.

It’s quiet. Eerily so. Charlie’s stopped chewing mid bite, her hand is holding her fork up in the air. The other hand is leaving Tom’s thigh – Evie’s words managing what all the glares Tom’s sent her way didn’t.

First, Charlie hears Emma clearing her throat, then Evie’s two cousins going “aaaaaaaw” and “how did you hurt yourself?”

Charlie blinks. Fuck dammit. “I…” she starts to answer, but doesn’t make it far, because she can see Emma’s and Sarah’s husbands shaking in their seats, their shoulders bouncing, their gazes locked on their plates. They’re laughing. Emma hides her snickers with a cough, and Evie looks innocently between the grown-ups. Charlie doesn’t even risk looking at Tom.

Sarah is the first to speak. And Charlie wishes she wouldn’t. “Excuse me, Evie. They were doing what now?”

“No…we…”

“Can’t we…”

But both Tom and Charlie are ignored by the group, and she just wants to get up and leave. Preferably never meet anyone of Tom’s family again. Or maybe the ground could swallow her whole.

“Well. Charlie was lying in bed and daddy was under the covers. And he said that Charlie scratched herself and that he checked if she was hurt. And I think she really is because before I came into the room I heard her groans. I think she was in pain. Are you in pain?”

It’s Emma’s husband who’s losing it first. Sarah follows, then her husband and Emma. They’re shaking, laughing, hiding their faces in their hands. The children look around like everyone’s gone mad. And Tom? From the corner of her eyes Charlie sees his face going from pale to deep red and back to pale. He looks like he’d like to die, and his mouth opens and closes at least four times. Charlie’s not doing better.

“Oh goodness,” Emma giggles. “I’d never thought I’d say this, but I hope my brother knows where you’re hurting and how to make it better.”

Everyone – except Tom, Charlie, and the children – is laughing even harder now.

Great. She’d rather have a 72-hour-run at the hospital now. Thank you very much.

* * *

The situation finally diffuses when Evie’s lip begins to wobble because somehow all the grown-ups seem to be laughing at her. Tom, for his part, is still playing ‘fish out of the water’, gaping silently and looking as if he wants the ground to open up and swallow him.

As for Charlie, she’s been mumbling something not even she can make sense of, feeling so embarrassed she’s probably as red as a Santa Claus.

“As long as Charlie isn’t…um…hurting…at the moment,” Sarah’s words are interrupted by her own snigger, “I think we’re all good.”

She’s pretty sure she’s turned another shade redder. Burgundy maybe? Crimson? Tom gives the tiniest snort as if he’s tempted to giggle too, so she just shoves off the table and rises from her chair with a muttered “’m all good, don’ worry”. And then she scampers for the bathroom, hearing Evie’s still worried voice amid the noises of adults trying to get back to business.

Charlie locks herself in the guest bathroom, staring at her red face in the small mirror. Oh god. Oh god, oh god. She’s never ever going to visit them again. And she’s going to kill Tom…although it’s not even his fault. It takes two to…well, um, not tango but ‘hurt’. Oh god.

There’s a tentative knock on the door.

“Go away, Tom. I’m rather in the mood to strangle you right now,” she calls out, opening the tap to run her wrists under the icy cold water and splash some on her face too.

“Good that I’m not Tom then, gives me a chance of survival,” she hears Emma’s voice over the water sound.

Not sure what to say, Charlie closes the tap and shifts from one foot to the other. She tries a chagrined “sorry for that whole scene” when rustling tells her that Tom’s sister isn’t going anywhere soon.

“No worries, Charlie. We’ve all been through similar situations, believe it or not. There was that time we got caught in the bathtub while…” There’s some throat clearing. “Never mind. The point is, we don’t want you to take this too seriously. We’re all human. Humans with children, at that. Stuff like this is bound to happen when the love bug has bitten you.

The love bug, huh? Despite the highly embarrassing situation Charlie grins a little at that. It has bitten her. Tom too?

“I’m still sorry,” she mumbles at the closed door while she dries her hands with the small towel.

More shuffling behind the door. “Will you let me in for a moment? I swear, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She hesitates, but honestly, what could happen? Plus, Charlie still doesn’t know Tom’s family that well, but she knows they’re similarly stubborn. They’d end up with Charlie in the bathroom and Emma in front of the door for the next two hours.

So, she opens the door and is met with a grinning Emma, slightly pushing her way in, before closing the door behind her.

“I really am sorry, and the others are too,” she says, and then pulls Charlie into a quite surprising – and then not surprising at all – hug.

“It’s fine.”

“I promise it’s more about teasing my brother than anything else,” Emma assures her, still holding her tight, “he’d do the same to any of us. And we wouldn’t be so open about it, if we didn’t think you could handle it.”

They part, and Charlie does feel a tiny bit better. She’s still challenging the look of a tomato she’s sure, but well, nobody’s got hurt.

“You’re good for him, you know?” Emma smiles. “For both of them.” Gone is the teasing, it’s just open adoration and something else on the blonde woman’s face. “He’d not been fine for a while. And I know you’re not his crutch and that I gave him hell for messing things up in the beginning. But he really needs you. In a good way. And we’re happy that you’re here.”

Charlie blushes – again – and fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. And when she sees tears in Emma’s eyes, she can’t help but get choked up as well.

“I…” she mumbles.

Emma laughs. “Don’t say anything. Just accept it. You’re good for him. And he’s in love. I can see that. And so are you."

* * *

In a corner of the living room, where Tom is still fervently wishing the floor would swallow him whole, footsteps approach.

He knows whoever is seeking him out won’t just vanish because he refuses to look at them. But he still tries, feeling like an ostrich with is head buried in the sand.

Sarah stands next to him, looking out the window too.

“Have you come to laugh some more?” Tom asks through clenched teeth, more humiliated than angry.

His sister shoots him a glance, her mouth twitching though to her credit she doesn’t guffaw or giggle anymore.

“Nope. But I’m totally going to store this glorious day away for future reference.”

Tom sighs, feeling himself transported back to his teens, which seem to have been one endless embarrassment.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he grumbles good-naturedly.

Sarah glances at him again.

“I have to say I’m surprised though.”

He turns to face her, his blush somewhat less pronounced now.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t so sure about Charlie at first.” When she apparently sees his hackles rise, she quickly holds up her hands. “No, don’t get me wrong. I took a liking to her immediately, and the more I found out, the more I liked her. But I wasn’t all that certain she and you would be able to make a relationship work.”

Tom lets that sink in, wondering whether he wants to hear her reasons. When he remains silent, his sister places a hand on his arm.

“I’m sure now,” Sarah says. “The two of you - in fact, the three of you - really seem to have clicked. You’re good for each other. And it’s plain to see that you’re in love and not just in - somewhat precariously obvious - lust.”

“Huh,” is what he comes up with, not at all intelligent. Sarah is right of course - she often is, not that Tom would tell her that - Tom does love Charlie. And most of the time he’s certain Charlie loves him as well. Him and Evie. He simply didn’t realise it’s that plain to see, as Sarah put it.

The wonder must show on his face, because Sarah squeezes his arm, a grin playing around her lips.

“Oh, come on, Tom,” she smiles, “you must know that it shows. You’re in synch, not just when you’re blushing, you tease each other, you’re positively beaming at her whenever she says something, and you should see the look on your face when she interacts with Evie.”

Tom feels himself blushing again, this time because he apparently acts like a teenager in love when it comes to Charlie, and all for his family to see.

“It’s adorable, really.” There’s a teasing note in Sarah’s voice, and Tom rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call it adorable.”

“But it is.”

“Is not.”

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“Tom, live with it. You’re adorable around Charlie, and you should keep her, she’s good for you.” With another pat on his arm, Sarah smiles at him and then turns to leave. “Oh, and she also keeps up with us. She must love you fiercely.”

“Ha!” Tom nods, laughing. “She must.” He’s smiling to himself, watching his sister leave for the kitchen.

Then Tom frowns. Charlie’s been gone awfully long. And Emma’s not around, either. Panicking would obviously be a bit much. His baby sister may be annoying, but she’s not a monster after all. But Tom does wonder, where they are, and what they’re doing.

He doesn’t have to wonder for long, as not 20 seconds later both women enter the living-room, Emma immediately changing her route as soon as she sees Tom, and going for the kitchen instead, where he can hear both Sarah and Emma start talking immediately.

Charlie walks over to him with a small smile playing around her lips. She takes Tom’s outstretched hand, still managing to send his heart into a frenzy.

“Hey,” he mumbles and pulls her close, his hand - still intertwined with hers - now resting on her lower back. “Are you okay?”

Charlie nods, but blushes again. “I’m fine. It’s all good, really.” Standing on her tiptoes, she leans closer to him, her lips softly brushing his. “Next time we’re going to get dressed before falling asleep.”


End file.
